Mocking Bird
by walkingthroughwalls
Summary: Sara and Nick are on a case that brings Sara to a very fragile place. As they get deeper and deeper how long until both of them can't take any more?
1. Senses

I am **deaf**.

"Come out, my little birdie."

I am **blind**.

The sliver of light underneath the closet door was blocked. Two feet. One wears a bloodied sock; the other is bare, prime for kicking.

I am **mute**.

I'm biting my lip so hard I can taste the copper spill of blood. _Don't you dare make a sound. If he hears you, it will be a hundred times worse._

I am **dumb**.

_I know nothing. _

I am **nothing**.

_Let me disappear._

"Sara?" There was a blur of skin color in front of her face. She flinched, preparing for the familiar blow, but none came. She opened her eyes and realized she wasn't hiding in her closet anymore, this time she was searching for evidence in someone else's.

"What planet were you on?" Nick chuckled.

"What?" she shook her head as if it was filled with water, sloshing in her head, blocking her ears.

"You stopped taking pictures and you got that kinda spacey look…"

"Oh. I'm just really exhausted, you know back to back shifts…" she trailed off, bringing the camera back up to her eye, nothing was in focus.

"Come on. Just about anyone that works with you knows that you almost ask for these assignments," he smiled but her quick, tight lipped glare told him to zip it (unless he wanted a splash of cold, gritty coffee shoved down his shirt).

"So I'm thinking, the killer entered through the window with the lock already busted,"

"-suggesting familiarity," Nick pointed out.

Sara closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, but continued on as if he hadn't said anything.

"He sneaks up behind her. Pushes her onto the bed. Ties her arms to the bedpost…"

Sara cleared her throat awkwardly.

"And he rapes her," Nick finishes softly, with an undertone of anger. It was barely there, but Sara recognized the feeling she herself felt surging through her veins.

She couldn't look at him, just picked up again,

"Then takes a sharp object and stabs her," her voice is barely audible at this point, "at least a dozen times."

Sara stiffens when she feels a hand brush against her shoulder.

"Hey," he says it like a greeting but she can hear the question underneath, the concern? But he doesn't ask the question with real words. As his hand moves away and her body sags, she realizes she almost wanted him to. As she bends over to collect her evidence, she sees something dirty and white out of the corner of her eye. _It's a cigarette._ A used one, with definite traces of saliva at the beginning and blood at the end.

"Hey Nick," she clears her throat, "did the vic have burns?"

"There was too much blood to see much of anything else," There it was again, that hint of enflamed emotion.

_How can someone let someone suffer? And just stand by and watch. _


	2. A Sensative Spot

"Your vic bled to death-"

"-Kind of obvious, Doc." Nick chuckled but there was no laughter behind it.

"Let me finish. She didn't bleed out from these," he gestured to the multiple stab wounds covering her torso to her abdomen; a map of pain.

"What?" Nick asked astounded, "But there was blood all over her!"

"As I was saying she bled to death, but due to excessive vaginal trauma which caused her to hemorrhage."

Sara couldn't stop a strangled cry from escaping. She had been circling the poor girl; the circle of death.

She seemed so much smaller without her blanket of blood keeping her warm. There was no color anymore; all or nothing.

"Did she have any burn marks? We found a cigarette with blood at the scene." Sara whispered.

"I found these, definitely prost mortem," he had turned her on her side and was pointing to five dots on the back of her neck; a very sensitive spot.

"Like the side of a dice…" Nick mumbled.

"Well this girl was anything but lucky. She went through hell to die for some peace."

"Anything else?" Nick could barely push the words out of his throat, they came up raspy; caught.

_As if this isn't enough?_

"Nick! Sara!"

They turned to find their favorite lab rat Greg Sanders rushing towards them.

"Hey Greggo what's up?" Nick asked forcing a weak smile. Who ever said it took more to frown never experienced the horrors of life through a CSI's eyes.

_Oh God. Greg's not smiling._

"After seeing the crime scene photos and then this…" Greg swallowed hard.

"Give it," Nick grunted, arming himself for another blow.

"Well the blood and skin cells at the end of your cigarette matched the vic but the saliva at the other end did not. **But** the DNA had seven alleles in common; female, probably the mother."

"That's not the worst part," Greg added hurriedly before they could fully process the information.

_No._

"The semen we recovered also had seven alleles in common."

_No!_

"Oh God." Sara ran across the hall into the nearest bathroom.

She immediately dropped to her knees and started retching, didn't care there wasn't a toilet beneath her, didn't want to see anything, didn't want to know anything, just wanted to empty herself out until she went numb.

She knew it was far from over when she stood up on shaking matchstick legs; all burnt up and ready to give out.

Her sweaty palms gripped the sides of the sink. She was grasping; for the glue that could hold her jigsaw pieces together.

Her hair was sticking to her sweat soaked forehead at odd angles. Her eyes were surrounded by crescent moons the color of bruises. Her irises were swallowed up by black tunnels leading down into shadowed rooms. Rooms with memories that lined the walls. Pictures of hands crawling like bugs on my skin. Bottled up screams labeled neatly with dates. Screwed tight lids and unbreakable glass.

"_Mommy!"_

_He turned on me, his favorite weapon of choice dripping with her blood. His fist was swinging back and forth like the pendulum tail of the cat clock in the Emergency Room of the hospital._

"Sar,"

_What? He never called me that. It was always "birdie," a fragile newborn he could easily crush._

"Sara!"

That familiar voice pulled her out of the dark and into the badly lit florescent lighting.

It was Nick. She could feel his pity absorbing into her skin and sinking down into her veins. She hated that.

"Hey, Nicky."

He looked startled. She didn't use that name.

"Hey, Sar."

He placed one hand on the back of her neck and she realized he had wet it. The cold dragged through her body with a slowness she relished. She shivered. It was a sensitive spot.


	3. Las Vegas Heat Sara's fire

Sara couldn't breath. Her car was smoking big black cancerous clouds.

"Not now, baby, please" she silently begged her dam motor.

"Shit," now there was a small spark that leapt up; daring her to play.

She backed away; not seeing the soda can in her way. She fell down hard; thank god her ass was there to catch the fall.

"Could this get any worse?" she threw the cursed can up and away; challenging the sky, secretly begging for their windows to open up and let the rain poor in.

She buried her head in her knees. The gentle rumble of a working car taunted her. She ignored it, 'til it was so close to her ear that she could feel its hot breath.

"Hey! You trying to run me-"

Nick stepped out from behind the door. She had to squint through the sun's glowing adoration to catch his frame, but it was him. Dread filled her stomach, there was something else too, deep in the pit of her stomach, but it was eaten by the red hot anger.

She slowly boiled.

"Thought you could use a start," he smiled with the cable in his hands.

"It's no use. It's being purposefully stubborn," her death glares feed the fire. She slowly stood up, wiping off her bruised butt with a wince.

"Kind of like you," his smiled broadened, but he was searching her face.

"Let's give it a-" he moved forward but her arm shot out and grabbed his; tight.

"-I said **leave it**," she growled through her teeth.

At last he finally saw the beginning of what she was feeling; that the burnt pieces weren't just coming from the flaming car.

"Fine. Then you can ride with me," he shrugged.

"What if I don't want-" she cut herself off. She really had no choice. No one else to call. No time to lose. _Fate_ had screwed her over once again.

"Fine." She gritted it through a clenched, unwilling mouth.

She opened the passenger side and slammed it behind her.

The drive was long but, surprisingly enough, it was not awkward. Sara held to her anger steadfastly, but as she stewed she couldn't help but feel comfortable. She just had to **let go**.

_First, I have to set him straight_.

As if reading her thoughts, Nick turned the dial of the radio 'til the some sort of covering noise seeped through.

"Emergency

I think I am falling apart

Emergency

I think I am losing the fight

And I don't know if I can do it

I don't know if I can try

I don't know if anyone asked the reason I lied"

Sara surprised herself when she leaned forward and twisted the dial in her direction, the music growing.

She jumped a little bit when her name came bursting out of the speakers. I was a wake up call. She shook her head, her hair blowing every which way. She hadn't realized the window was down, hadn't felt the cool wind whip her cheek.

They pulled into her driveway and the radio cut. _Here goes nothing…_


	4. Pin Me Down with Needles

"I don't understand," Nick's voice was muffled by his head in his cupped hands.

It wasn't easy to explain and he wasn't making things any easier. Even if he had no clue what the hell she was talking about, he was supposed to nod his head and leave.

But she secretly liked the way his face just…softened and hardened when he was mad; highs and lows. Never loud, just…noticeable.

She winced. Maybe it would be better if they could both calm down.

"Listen, it's just…there are things in my past that…I remember during…certain…cases," she stuttered with her words, trying to choose them carefully; generic.

"Yes. But what does that have to do with me? Why are you pushing me away?!" His voice was rising, not in anger but in a deep frustration born from severe confusion.

"Oh God! Just shut up, _Nick_!" She didn't know why she had snapped, did know why she had sneered his name, didn't like it one bit. She just could feel all of her secrets bubbling to the top and yelling at him temporarily pushed them a little bit further down her throat.

He looked at her with widened eyes. Then he grimaced simply, shook his head with disappointment, and stood up.

_He's going to leave. __**Stop!**_

He turned around and gave her a raised eyebrow.

She had said it out loud. She clamped her and over her mouth, preventing any other unwanted words to escape. _But were they really __**unwanted**_ It had gotten him to stay, even for a few precious seconds longer.

"Look," he closed the gap between their bodies, grabbing her arms pinned to her side and looking straight into her eyes,

"I don't need you to tell me anything. It would be nice- never mind, it doesn't do me any good," his voice cracked on the word _good_, but he cleared it, swallowed hard and continued, never losing his intensity.

"Just let me help you. Let me give you a ride, let me…make you laugh! Let me in and **let me stay**."

"I…I…want to," she mumbled, unable to tear her watering eyes away from his solid ones.

"Then, for once in your God dam life, Sara, do whatever _you_ **want**."

"I want to tell you something…I've never told anyone else," she whispered, bathing his ear in her enchanting breath.

"What?" his words were choked and strangled with excitement and anticipation.

"On my thirteenth birthday…I…I…" her voice changed slightly; from nervousness pulsing through her dry mouth to…a coyness slipping off her wet, slick lips.

"I got my first kiss."

He gave her a sideways smile, but she could see the look in his eyes; relief.

He wasn't ready. Maybe someday. Maybe not. It didn't matter right now, and right now she just wanted to hang on this one moment.

"I hated it," she whispered as his face came dangerously close.

She turned her head and he kissed her cheek. Then down a stream running down her neck.

He would get that kiss when that Maybe became the absolute past.


	5. Digging in Childern's Closets

"Our vic's name is August Trey. I got her name off of a missing person's report. She was seventeen and…we get to go tell her brother she's dead," Nick sighed.

"Wait, what about her parents?" Sara asked confused and angry, but not necessarily surprised, they had had some part in her torture, why should they care?

"Apparently, August was sent to live with her brother, Foster, after their parents died in a car accident two years ago." Nick raised an eyebrow at Sara; he could obviously see how shattered she was with this news.

"Wait…what?"

"Remember the test said the tormentors were closely related to the victim," he reminded her softly.

"R-r-right," she nodded swallowing the large lump growing in her throat.

He held her hand the entire drive to Foster Trey's apartment. She wasn't sure how she felt. Like when you've been out in the cold for hours and then you take a shower. At first the warm water burns and makes your skin tingle, but then it feels like home.

Foster Trey was tall. He towered over Sara, who was quite tall herself. He had bleached blonde hair with visible dark roots and black rimmed square glasses that magnified his swollen bloodshot eyes.

"Hello. I'm CSI Nick Stokes and this is CSI Sara Sidle. We're here to talk about a missing person's report you filed on your sister August."

He greeted them with a weak smile and ushered them to come in. Sara wrinkled her nose at the immediate recognition of cigarette smoke.

"Please excuse the mess," Foster waved at the dirty clothes strewn over the couch and the grimy dishes stacked high with hardened food. He slumped down onto the coach and motioned for them too both take a seat. Sara and Nick shared the opposing loveseat, both gingerly taking their places.

"So, Mr. Trey-" Nick cleared his throat to begin a particularly awkward conversation.

"It's Foster, if you don't mind," Foster interrupted. He had his fingers to his temples; rubbing in circles.

"Right, well, I need you to take a look at this picture and tell us if you recognize the young woman." Nick passed him the photo they had shot of the poor girl's face after the autopsy.

Foster barely glanced at it before nodding and passing the photo back.

"Yes, that's August," his reply came out choked.

"Then we have some questions to ask you…" Nick stashed the photo inside the folder, pulling out the autopsy photo of the five burn marks.

"Do you recognize this symbol?" Nick asked handing him the photo. He felt fairly ridiculous since it was a very generic pattern; seen at every casino on almost very corner of Las Vegas.

Foster examined it a moment.

"Not the pattern, but August did always love the number five. She was born on August fifth." He explained with a far away smile.

Nick took back the photo placing it inside of the folder again, right on top of the gruesome crime scene photos. This pushed Sara out of her silence.

"Why her?" It was a general question but said so bluntly it could only be taken as an accusation.

"Excuse me?"

Nick gave Sara a sideways glance, confused, but she didn't stop to explain or even acknowledge him.

"What did she ever do to you that made you… deep breath brutally rape … and stab her over and over again? Wait there as she lost pint after pint of blood? Watch the life drain right out of her?! And then brand her!" Sara hadn't even realized she had inched her face closer and closer to Foster's bewildered one.

"What are you talking about?! Wait! Did you say raped?" he looked incredulous and horrified.

"You heard what I said. Do you want me to depict every detail of your handiwork?" she sneered.

Nick grabbed her arm and half dragged her outside, slamming the door behind them.

"What's gotten into you?!"

"Stay out of it, Nick." Sara gritted through her teeth.

"No. You may have just jeopardized the case! Our case! Why are you trying to cut me out?!" he had his hands raking through his hair roughly. She would have thought it was cute if she wasn't so MAD.

She marched over to the Denali, yanked the door open, slid inside, and slammed the door closed behind her. He followed her, but at a slightly slower and calmer pace.

"Tell me."

"I can't trust you."

He choked, "Why?!"

She folded her arms across her chest but she did look at him. His mouth was slightly open in shock, and his eyes were hurt. This made her loosen a bit.

"Nick, I…"

"- If I tell you something about me, will you tell me what's been bothering you, the thing particularly involved with **this** case?"

She shrugged her shoulders; slightly intrigued but mostly expecting a stupid embarrassing college scenario.

"Okay. I've only ever told Cath about this…when I was nine and my mom left me with this last minute babysitter. She was nice but she made me uncomfortable, just the way she… looked at me. So anyway she started touching me," here Nick looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the water flooding his eyes, "and it hurt, Sar, she **hurt** me."

I just stared at him. _Nick had been molested? But he was so funny and sweet and sincere and he almost always had a smile_ …as she listed off his attributes, Sara realized she loved all of these things about him.

He folded his arms on top of the steering wheel and buried his head in them. She reached for him with a shaky outstretched hand but at the last minute she grabbed him and wrapped her entire body around his. She could feel his breathing catch and then collapse entirely.

"My Dad did it." She said quietly.

He lifted his head and looked at her with a question in his eyes.

She dropped her arms back to her sides.

"Dad, he always had a problem, lots actually," she chuckled coldly,

"he had one for alcohol, one for rage, one for control…and they all escalated. He finally did get some help. It was an uncomfortable time, calm on the surface, but we were all waiting…" at this point she was wringing her hands. He gently pulled them apart and slipped them into his own warm sweaty palms. She looked up; surprised eyes slightly wide.

"The day It happened, was on my birthday, I came home from school full of cupcakes to find my mother beaten and bleeding on the floor. He was standing over her; wild eyed and coming at me. He backed me into a corner, and when I begged him to STOP he went even farther. He turned me around and…when he was done I fell to my knees puked up my beautiful birthday meal and started to black out I saw my mother come at him with a kitchen knife. I escaped that day with a broken tailbone, a fractured rib, a sprained wrist, and a slight concussion. These weren't my worst injuries but that day he hurt me the most by dying…and sending me away from my mother. I just remember when they separated us how my father used to sing 'Daddy's gonna buy you a Mocking Bird,' it was like he was mocking me by ruining my life from the grave." I turned to look at Nick's face, his mouth was twisted in pain but his hands squeezed mine reassuringly. That's when I knew; I trusted him. That meant more to me than if I loved him. I broke down and started sobbing into his shirt as he hugged me close to him. That was the day he gave me my first kiss that meant more to me than sex ever would.


	6. Greg to the Rescue!

Sara stared down at the test results Greg had just handed her. Her mouth was slightly open she was sure.

"Did you double check?" she asked for the tenth time. Greg just stared ather, not even bothering to answer this time.

"Hey, did you get Foster's blood test results yet?" Nick entered the lab; Sara was still in that phase that she wanted to grab Nick's hand every time he entered a room. But she had asked him not to tell anyone, not yet.

This answer was so absorbing she couldn't even acknowledge him.

"Ugh, the words are starting to blur," she groaned shoving the paper in his direction.

She watched Greg while Nick read the results. He looked so tired. Why had she never noticed that? They just gave him task after test to do and never thought twice. Then he looked up and smiled at her. His whole face changed, the circles under his eyes disappeared, and his hair stood up a little straighter.

"What?!" Nick had obviously finished.

"Did you double check?"

Greg threw up his hands and sighed greatly,

"You tell him!"

"Yes, he did." I replied with a slight smile.

"Foster planted his father's semen and the cigarette is actually his?"

"That's right. Foster was born a girl and had a sex change ten years back."

"Why would he…she? Kill August?" Nick voiced the question they both had on their minds.

"I can actually answer that," Greg finally decided to reenact his voice.

"What?" both Sara and Nick turned around practically bursting with hungry desire for an answer.

"Sibling rivalry. Favoritism. Disownment. See I checked it out. The Trey's disowned Foster after his little 'change' leaving everything to August. But if August dies he's the only one left."

Greg smiled. Nick grabbed Sara's hand. They both smiled. Genuine real smiles that had wanted to escape for days.


End file.
